Page 23 of An Enchanting Dare

“Oh, pish. Sit yourself down and do call me Kitty. Lady Trevick makes me sound far too sensible and well-behaved, and I’m rarely accused of that, even now. Something I’m far prouder of than I ought to be, I know, but society is so dreadfully dull and opinionated. It’s enough to give anyone the pip.”

Sylvester blinked and sat as instructed, at a loss to know what to say.

“There, you see? I’ve shocked you,” she observed with satisfaction. “I should get used to it, Mr Cootes. I am a terrible trial to my poor husband.”

Sylvester opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, and closed it again.

Lady Trevick grinned. “Milk and sugar?” she asked serenely as a footman laid a tray with an exquisite porcelain tea service on it before her.

“Milk, no sugar.” He wondered what was coming next.

“Ah, sweet enough,” she observed with a twinkle in her eyes.

They sat in silence while the lady made the tea just how he liked it and handed him the cup before seeing to her own.

“Do try the tea cakes, Mr Cootes. Our cook is a marvel and makes the simplest of pleasures into something quite decadent. I don’t know what her secret is, but I should commit murder before I let anyone poach her from us, and they have tried.”

“Really?” Sylvester paused with a tea cake in hand, diverted.

The countess gave a sigh of content as she bit into a cake and chewed, and he waited. “Oh, yes,” she said, once she was free to speak again. “A wonderful cook is worth her weight in gold, and you’d never believe the lengths some people go to in their efforts to lure her away. Thankfully for us, she’s loyal and has been with the family since the children were small.”

“I imagine she knows a good thing when she has found it,” Sylvester replied politely.

“Exactly,” said the countess, wagging a finger at him. “Loyalty works both ways. We do all in our power to make sure she is content in her work and her life here is everything she could wish, and in return she dismisses other tantalising offers that promise the moon for the security and happiness she finds here. Good people, people you can trust, are scarce. But once found, they ought to be appreciated. Can I trust you, Mr Cootes?”

The ambush took him by surprise, and he needed a moment to rally. Perhaps he ought to have expected it, for he’d known the lady did not mince her words, but she had lulled him into a sense of security and now he felt a bit as if he’d had the rug pulled from under him.

“Yes,” he replied as unease slid beneath his skin. Sylvester held her gaze and prayed he did not look as nervous and sweaty palmed as he felt. “Yes, my lady. You can trust me.”

He’d kissed her daughter in the garden, and he wanted to do it again, but it wasn’t a lie. He would never hurt Aisling, nor her family.

The countess stared back at him, so intently and for so long that he had to battle the urge to fidget under her scrutiny.

“Yes,” she said with a nod. “I believe I can.”

The vice that had fastened about Sylvester’s chest released abruptly, and he let out a breath of relief.

“What are your intentions towards my daughter, Mr Cootes?” the lady asked, holding the tray of tea cakes out to him again.

Sylvester took one, prepared now for the kind of conversation this was going to be. “I have no intentions towards your daughter, other than that of a friend,” he said, hoping she could not hear the bitterness and regret in his voice, for he did not wish for this lovely woman to pity him. “I am aware I have nothing to offer her, and I would never presume otherwise. My prospects are secure enough, but I must work to earn my keep and that’s hardly worthy of an earl’s daughter. I have no illusions, I assure you.”

The memory of that kiss rose in his mind, calling him a liar, but he pushed it away. It had been a foolish dream, an aberration, a momentary loss of sanity. He would not let it happen again.

“You would be her friend?” she repeated, watching him intently.

“I would. In fact, the reason I stayed was because….”

He stopped, aware he could say no more even if he knew what the more was. If Aisling had secrets, they were her secrets. He did not know what they were, and would have no right to share them with anyone if he did.

“Because?” she pressed, and there was an edge to the word, a sharpness that made him believe she would be a formidable enemy if you thought to damage her children’s happiness.

Sylvester hesitated, uncertain of what to say, and the countess saved him from stammering excuses by speaking first.

“Mr Cootes. I like you, and for that reason, I am going to throw caution to the wind, trust in your discretion, and be horribly candid.”

Sylvester bit back a smile, for the lady had been nothing but candid since he’d stepped into the room.

“Something happened to my daughter. I do not know what, or even precisely when it happened, but something did, and she will not confide in us. I think perhaps it was a long time ago, but she is far too adept at hiding her feelings and pretending all is well. Yet Aisling is unhappy, and her unhappiness is eating away at her father and myself, for we do not know how to fix it.”